Chapter Text
Nat felt the cool breeze brush against her face, a quick reprieve from the heat pounding off the turf. The sun was relentless, baking the field and everyone on it, but practice was almost over. Just a few more drills and she’d be free. Free to ditch the cleats, ditch the fake smiles, and head off with Van—plans already made in a low whisper during water break: rent something dumb, light up, maybe crash in Van’s basement if her mom didn’t notice. It was their ritual, their way of pretending they had nowhere else to be.
As the whistle blew, Nat jogged to the sideline, chest heaving, sweat sticking her brow. She yanked off her shin guards with a grunt and flopped onto the grass like she was making a crime scene outline.
Van plopped down beside her a second later, grinning like she hadn’t just run suicides in ninety-degree heat.
“Jesus Christ,” Nat muttered, staring up at the too-blue sky. “Remind me why we do this?”
Van took a swig from her water bottle and offered it without looking. “To suffer. For glory. And because Coach Martinez has a power complex.”
Nat snorted, took a sip, then made a face. “Warm.”
“Like your attitude.”
They both sat there for a moment, letting the sun burn their skin and the silence settled like dust.
“You still good for later?” Van asked, brushing grass off her knee.
“Yeah,” Nat said, glancing sideways. “You pick the movie?”
Van gave her a look. “Obviously. And you’re gonna hate it.”
Nat smirked. “Can’t wait.”
The locker room was buzzing — that sticky, humid kind of energy that came after a late practice and before a weekend party. Cleats clunked against the concrete floor, someone’s speaker blasted a half-
dead Nirvana song, and the air smelled like sweat, cheap body spray, and nerves.
Jackie’s voice cut through it all, too loud as always. “I’m just saying, it’s not my fault if Jeff wants to hang around me. Maybe you should talk to him, Shauna.”
Shauna didn’t look up from where she was lacing her sneakers. “Maybe I’d rather talk to literally anyone else.”
“Damn,” muttered Melissa, low but loud enough for Van to catch it.
Nat rolled her eyes as she shoved her stuff into her duffel. “Same fight, new day.”
Van, toweling off her face, grinned. “Jackie’s gonna marry herself one day. Be the happiest bride ever.”
Nat snorted. “You coming to the party?”
Van shrugged. “Depends. You goin’?”
“Yeah.” Nat flicked her a look. “But only for the good parts. The beer, the bad decisions, and your mixtape.”
“Sold.” Van grinned, pulling her hoodie on over damp hair. “What are you wearing?”
Nat deadpanned, “Clothes.”
Van bumped her shoulder. “Hilarious. I just wanna know if we’re going full goth menace or casual felon.”
“Why not both?”
Tai walked over, fresh out of the showers, her hair damp and curling at the ends. She smelled like that shampoo she always used — the kind with the soft floral scent that didn’t quite match her tough
exterior. Van clocked it instantly. Her brain stopped for half a second, the way it always did around Tai.
“Hey Van, need a ride?” Tai asked, casual on the surface, but the look she gave Van wasn’t subtle. It never was. Van blinked. Then smiled a little too wide, a little too fast. “I’d love one, lady. Take me to Blockbuster?”
Nat raised an eyebrow, stuffing the last of her socks into her duffel. “Guess movie night’s postponed?”
Van glanced back “Never, see you at 7 Nat.”
That got a small, real smile out of Nat. “You better not forget the Sour Patch Kids this time.”
“In my heart and my bag,” Van called, already heading for the door with Tai close behind.
In the background, Melissa sat down on the bench beside Shauna, who was still half-heartedly shoving her gear into her bag, eyes glossy but jaw clenched.
“You okay?” Melissa asked, voice quiet.
Shauna nodded, then shook her head. “Jackie’s exhausting.”
Melissa offered a small smile. “Wanna go to the party together tomorrow? Skip the drama?”
Shauna looked over at her, surprised — but maybe a little grateful too. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“You ever think we’re gonna get out?” Van asked, her pupils wide, reflecting the TV's glow as much as the trip.
They were sunk deep into the old couch in her basement, the kind that smelled like dust and pot smoke, surrounded by crumpled snack bags and VHS cases. The movie was playing, but neither of them were really watching anymore.
“One day we’ll be free, Van,” Nat replied, voice soft but certain. “Even if it’s just for a minute.”
Van laughed, but it didn’t sound happy. “Tai and I got into it at Blockbuster. I said something dumb. I’m just… tired of hiding. Everyone already knows I’m a dyke anyway.”
Nat didn’t say anything right away, just looked over, eyes half-lidded and glassy. Then she nudged Van’s knee with her own. “Yeah. But it’s different when you say it out loud, right?”
Van nodded, looking up at the water-stained ceiling. “Yeah.”
Silence settled between them — not uncomfortable, but heavy. Like the kind that only comes when two people know what it’s like to want out of everything.
“If they know anyway,” Nat said, pulling her knees up to her chest, “why not look the part? You’ve been thinking about it forever.”
Van grinned lazily. “What’s more dyke than soccer and rugby shirts?”
Nat laughed. “A buzzcut and a flannel, maybe.” Then she leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Come on. It’s senior year. We’ve got nationals, prom… What’s left to lose? Let’s give you a haircut. Get you set for Rutgers in the fall.”
She nudged Van’s shoulder. “I’m gonna have the dykest roommate.”
Van raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even going to Rutgers.”
Nat smirked. “No, but I like pretending I am when I’m high.”
Van snorted, then went quiet for a second. “You’d be a good roommate. Better than whoever I’ll probably end up with.”
“You’re stuck with me either way,” Nat said, grabbing a nearby pair of scissors and holding them up like a challenge. “So. What’ll it be? Shaggy punk Van, or full-on gay awakening?”
A few stabs of the scissors, some playful banter, and a lot of laughter later, Van had a mullet. A very 90s mullet — the kind that looked like it belonged on some grunge album cover. The edges were a little
uneven, but the vibe was undeniably there.
Van stood up from the couch, running her hands through her hair, trying to get a feel for it. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror across the room, then grinned. “Yeah. This is it.”
Nat, holding the disposable camera they’d found in Van’s drawer, clicked a picture. The flash popped, and for a second, everything in the basement was bright. “Perfect. Now it’s official. You’re ready for the party.”
Van struck a pose, lifting an eyebrow, looking straight at the camera with that gleam of mischief. She was handsome — no other word for it. Nat couldn’t help but smile. She was proud of her work. She’d
given Van more than just a haircut. She’d given her a version of herself she hadn’t seen before — bold and unapologetic.
“You look like yourself now, Van,” Nat said, voice soft but sure.
Van smiled back, radiant, like she’d just unlocked some part of herself. “I feel like myself.”
They exchanged a look, one that spoke volumes. Both of them were standing on the edge of something, something a little terrifying, a little thrilling. But it felt right. For the first time, it felt like they didn’t have to hide anymore.
“You know, it’s not too late to apply to Rutgers,” Van said, still twirling a strand of her freshly-cut hair between her fingers. She was half-joking, but her eyes were serious. “You’d definitely get a scholarship. We’re going to nationals, and you’re one of our best players.”
Nat scoffed, taking another hit and sinking deeper into the couch cushions. “I’m just a burnout, Van. They’re never gonna take me.”
Van looked at her, really looked at her. “You’re never gonna be free if you don’t try.”
Nat didn’t say anything at first. The movie kept playing in the background, flickering shadows dancing across the basement walls. She stared ahead, eyes glassy but alert. Van didn’t push. She never did when it really counted.
Finally, Nat muttered, “What if trying just proves I’m not good enough?”
Van leaned over, their shoulders touching. “Then you’ll still be more than anyone in this town ever expected. But what if you are good enough, and you never find out?”
Nat looked at her. The room felt heavier all of a sudden, like the air had thickened with everything unsaid. She didn’t have an answer yet, but the seed was planted.
The bell rang just as Van and Nat stepped into the building. Barely made it. They split at the main hall—Van veered off toward English, Nat toward Bio with Mr. Smith, a man who always looked like he hated being alive before 9 a.m.
Nat pushed open the classroom door and sighed. Her usual seat—unassigned but unofficially hers—was taken. By Shauna? Interesting. With every other chair filled, Nat was forced to drop her bag next to Jackie.
“Morning, Taylor,” Nat said, all sugar and smugness.
“Mhm,” Jackie replied, not bothering to look at her.
Mr. Smith droned on at the front of the class about mitochondria or meiosis or something else Nat could ace without paying attention. Her eyes drifted across the room.
Shauna wasn’t even trying to be subtle. She kept glancing toward Jackie like she was mentally replaying a conversation or a betrayal. Nat smirked. Whatever that fight was about—it was still going. Days now. Locker room fallout, sure, but there had to be more to it. Shauna looked more hurt than pissed. Jackie just looked… unbothered.
Nat leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. Drama didn’t usually interest her. But this? This was better than biology.
Van slid into her usual seat beside Taissa in English. She leaned over, voice low. “Hey, lady.”
Tai turned, did a double take—and froze. “What happened to your hair??” she blurted out, her voice not nearly as quiet.
“Turner! Keep it down back there, I'm teaching,” barked Mr. Coleman from the front of the room, not looking up from his copy of Lord of the Flies.
Van grinned, unfazed. “Wanted to feel more like myself.”
Tai opened her mouth, then shut it again. Still staring. Van just shrugged.
There were whispers now. A couple of students murmured, one even laughed under his breath and muttered dyke. Van heard it. Didn’t flinch. She kept her eyes on the chalkboard, back straight, jaw set.
Tai was still staring—but softer now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lunch buzzed with the usual chaos—trays clattering, voices echoing, the cliques in their usual spots. It was Friday: party tonight, game on Sunday. Jackie had insisted the Yellowjackets sit together, something about team bonding or whatever.
The table was alive with scattered conversations. Most of them orbited Van’s new haircut—compliments, questions, jokes. Van took it in stride. There were also murmurs about the ongoing Jackie-Shauna saga, the latest episode still fresh. But Shauna wasn’t at the table. Neither was Melissa.
“Nat… Nat!”
A voice cut through the noise. It was Jackie.
Nat blinked. “Oh, what’s up, Taylor?”
Jackie tilted her head, wearing that fake-sweet smile Nat had come to recognize. “Did you take any notes in class today? I’m really struggling with this bio stuff.”
Jackie Taylor, struggling? Yeah right. She was absolutely lying—either trying to look humble or fish for something. Nat wasn’t sure which, but it was suspicious enough to yank her fully back into the moment.
Nat raised an eyebrow, her lips tugging into a smirk. “Struggling, huh? Didn’t take you for the humble type, Taylor.”
Jackie laughed, almost too quickly. “I have layers, y’know.”
Nat leaned back, fork poking at the mashed potatoes on her tray. “Yeah, like an onion. Or a cake.”
Jackie rolled her eyes but she was smiling, a flicker of something playful in her gaze. “So… did you or didn’t you take notes?”
Nat let the moment hang just long enough to make Jackie squirm. “Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. What’s in it for me?”
Jackie gave a mock gasp. “Blackmail? How un-team-player of you.”
“Hey, team bonding works both ways,” Nat said, nudging her boot against Jackie’s under the table—subtle, easy to pass off as accidental. But Jackie didn’t move her leg.
-----------------
At the Matthews’ house, everything was big. Big rooms. Big house. Big parties. Tonight was no exception—Lottie was hosting, which meant drinks flowing, curated vibes, and the kind of playlist that made even the most uptight Yellowjackets loosen up. The theme was Red Flags—Lottie’s idea, naturally. “If we’re gonna ignore them anyway,” she’d said with a wink, “might as well dress the part.” The living room pulsed with red lights, streamers, and dollar store caution tape. Someone had made a sign that said He Said His Ex Was Crazy and hung it over the beer pong table.
Nat walked in with Van, both of them already a little buzzed from a joint in the driveway. Van was in a red flannel, mullet looking better than ever. Nat? She’d thrown on a crop top with the words Bad Idea in sharpie.
“I feel like we’re blending in too well,” Van muttered, eyes scanning the crowd.
“That’s the point,” Nat said, grabbing two red solo cups. “We are the red flags.”
From across the room, Jackie spotted her—already mid-laugh with someone, but her gaze lingered on Nat a second too long.
Van clocked it, elbowed Nat. “Looks like someone wants to be your next bad idea.”
Nat rolled her eyes, but didn’t disagree. Nat is playing the long game, she's not just a burnout, she gets around, ain't nothin wrong with that. Her and Van have been out to each other since.. Well as long as they can remember.
Freshman year. The game had just ended, a cold spring rain soaking through Nat’s uniform as she trudged into the locker room. Her cleats squelched on the floor, and she yanked her ponytail loose with a sigh. Everyone else was still outside—either loading up gear or high on adrenaline.
She turned the corner to grab her duffel… and froze.
Van was there, cornered between two lockers, making out with the opposing team’s goalie. It wasn’t some experimental peck—this was full-on, hand-in-hair, flushed-cheek kind of kissing.
The goalie noticed her first and broke off. Van’s eyes went wide, her freckles seeming brighter as panic surged across her face.
“Shit—Nat—I—”
Nat just blinked, tossed her bag onto the bench like nothing happened.
“Cool,” she said. “She was kinda hot.”
Van stared at her like she’d just rewritten the laws of gravity. “Wait… you're not—?”
“Grossed out?” Nat asked, already untying her cleats. “Nah. You think I’m gonna judge? I’m not my mom.”
Van hesitated, then slowly exhaled, shoulders loosening for the first time in who knows how long. “I thought you’d bail.”
Nat shrugged, grinning. “Please. You’re my best friend. You mack on whoever you want.”
Van looked at her with something deeper than gratitude—something like quiet relief wrapped in the first thread of trust.
Nat leaned against the wall near the keg, sipping something warm and vaguely fruity. Her eyes drifted across the room, catching Jackie mid-laugh with someone from yearbook. The rhinestones on Jackie’s
back glittered like warning lights — and yeah, Nat wasn’t about to miss that particular car crash.
Van sidled up beside her, handing over a fresh drink.
“Lottie’s spiked the punch with something expensive,” Van said. “Probably imported. Probably her idea of slumming it.”
Nat smirked. “Nothing says teen rebellion like top-shelf vodka in a Solo cup.”
They both watched Jackie flit through the crowd, commanding the room like she owned it. Nat didn’t mind the game. She had patience.
“You’re doing the thing again,” Van said. “The slow-burn seduction. Real patient arsonist energy.”
Nat shrugged. “Just studying the fire.”
Nat walked over, “Hey Taylor”
“Hey you” Jackie is clearly wasted, and it's barely 10:30. Jackie playfully touches Nats arm, and shows off her red flag. “I am never wrong Scattoricio”
Nat smirks, takes a slow sip from her cup, and eyes Jackie’s glittery, handwritten red flag pinned to her tank top.
“Never wrong, huh?” she says, raising a brow. “Bold claim for someone who thought Halloween was based on a true story.”
Jackie giggles—more like cackles, a little too loud for the volume of the room. “That movie was scary, okay?!”
Nat leans in, teasing but warm. “If you’re never wrong, then I must’ve imagined you asking me for notes this morning.”
Jackie grins, squinting in a mock-challenging way. “Maybe I just wanted your attention.”
That makes Nat pause, not quite expecting Jackie to volley back like that. She doesn’t flinch though. Instead, she meets her gaze, eyes steady.
“Well,” Nat says, “you’ve got it now.”
------
Tai’s voice cuts through the haze of the party like a knife—sharp, clear, and way too loud for the corner of the hallway they’re tucked into. Shauna winces, slumping against the wall, red Solo cup dangling from her fingers.
“I know it’s fucked up,” Shauna mutters, eyes glassy. “You don’t think I know that?”
Tai folds her arms. “Then why’d you say it like that? Like it’s Jackie’s fault you blew up your friendship.”
Shauna exhales hard, like she’s trying to push the guilt out of her chest. “Because it’s easier to be mad at her than to admit I’m just… selfish. She has everything. She’s always had everything.”
Tai stares at her for a long moment, then softens—just a little. “You’re not selfish, Shauna. You’re scared. But this? This is still on you.”
Shauna’s quiet. There’s music pulsing in the background, laughter from the other room, the smell of cheap beer and perfume and mistakes.
“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” she finally asks.
Tai shrugs, honest. “I don’t know. But if she finds out here? At this party? That’ll be the last straw.”
Shauna closes her eyes, leans her head back against the wall. “Too late.”
“Jesus, Shauna.” Tai rubs her temples. “You better hope Lottie spiked the punch with amnesia.”
"I ended it with Jeff, and i might be hooking up with Melissa" Says shauna
"Hat? Word on the street is that jeff and jackie are over too, guess he couldn't handle the guilt" Says tai
Shauna snorts, a bitter laugh bubbling up. “Guilt? Please. Jeff doesn’t feel guilt—he feels pressure. From Jackie, from his dad, from literally everyone. He liked sneaking around because with me, he didn’t have to pretend to be perfect.”
Tai raises a brow. “And what, Melissa’s your clean slate?”
Shauna shrugs, eyes flickering toward the party. “She’s… nice. And she listens. Doesn’t try to control everything I do. And she’s not in love with the sound of her own voice.”
“Damn,” Tai mutters. “Say how you really feel.”
“I’m just tired of being someone I don’t even like when I’m around Jackie.” Shauna looks down at her drink, her voice dropping. “But it’s not like I ever knew who I was without her.”
Tai exhales, leaning against the opposite wall. “Maybe it’s time you figured that out.”
A beat passes between them. Shauna nods slowly, then cracks a half-smile.
“So… you think she’s gonna punch me?”
Tai shrugs. “That depends. How much did she drink tonight?”
Shauna groans. “I’m so screwed, I'm gonna find Melissa”
Tai watches Shauna melt into the crowd, laughing too hard at something Melissa whispers in her ear. For a moment, Tai just stands there, drink in hand, caught between the throb of music and the ache in her chest.
The fight with Van replays like a loop. The look on her face. The distance in her voice. The way she didn’t even hesitate before walking away.
Shauna wouldn’t get it. No one would. Not really. Not unless they knew what it was like to have something real and be too scared to let it be real.
Tai tosses her half-finished drink in the sink, mutters “fuck it,” and pushes through the house.
The music is louder now, thumping through the floor as she slips past Lottie dancing in the living room, past Travis doing shots with Ben Scott, past Jackie and Nat laughing in the kitchen—something in
Tai’s chest clenches at the sight of them, but she keeps moving.
She scans the backyard through the sliding glass doors—no Van. The upstairs bathroom—no Van. The hallway, the porch, the garage—
Then, finally, in one of the living rooms, a familiar silhouette. Van, joint in hand, surrounded by a couple girls from the lacrosse team, laughing. But the laugh isn’t real, not the way Tai knows it. It’s armor.
Tai lingers at the edge of the light, heart pounding.
Van is sitting on the couch, her mullet catching the dim light as she laughs, a little too loud, with a couple of girls she’s just met tonight. They’re chatting about the game on Sunday, and one of the girls—who looks like she’s trying a little too hard—leans in, her voice syrupy sweet.
“So, like, do you ever get nervous before a big game? Like, you’re so chill, but I bet you have a little freak out inside, right?”
Van chuckles, leaning back casually. “Nah, I’m pretty much always this cool.” She says it with a cocky grin, but her eyes flicker over to where Nat’s standing across the room. Jackie’s all over her, practically draped across her arm.
Van doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the way the lights are hitting her hair, but her stomach turns a little, she can't stop thinking about Tai.
The girl presses on, clearly trying to latch onto Van’s attention. “So, like… what do you do to stay calm? I bet you have, like, some crazy routines or something.”
Van glances back at her, flashing a quick smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just breathe. You know, focus on the game.”
She swallows, trying not to let her discomfort show. She’s not about to spill her secrets to these girls. Not tonight. The party, the game, the girls—they’re all just distractions.
But her mind’s still on Nat, on that look she gave her earlier when they crossed paths. The one that left her wondering what could happen if they stopped playing games and just… let themselves be real
for once.
Van exhales slow, letting the smoke curl up into the night sky. One of the lacrosse girls—Jenna, maybe? Jessica?—is telling some dumb story about a senior prank involving a goat and the cafeteria. Van
laughs, because that’s what she’s supposed to do. That’s what cool, unbothered Van does.
But her stomach twists every time she hears the sliding door open behind her. Every time she hopes it’s Tai.
She catches herself checking. Again.
“You’re like, really pulling off that haircut,” one of the girls says, leaning in a little too close. “Gives total Winona Ryder in Heathers.”
Van forces a smile. “Was going more for Linda Hamilton, but I’ll take it.”
More laughter. Someone offers her a swig from a bottle of vodka. She takes it. Not because she wants to—but because it’s something to do.
Because she’s trying really hard not to feel anything.
But she does. She feels everything. The way Tai didn’t fight for her at Blockbuster. The way her voice went small when Van walked away. The way she still smells Tai’s shampoo every damn time she turns her head.
She doesn’t even realize her eyes have wandered until one of the girls nudges her. “Hey, you good?”
Van glances back toward the door.
And freezes.
Tai is there, standing just at the edge of the patio light, half-shadowed, looking at her like she’s the only one here that matters.
Van’s heart skips.
She turns back to the group. “Gimme a sec.”
She stands, brushing her jeans off, and walks toward Tai, every step slower than the last.
“You stalking me now?” she says, soft and tired, but there’s a hint of that old tease in her voice.
Tai exhales, rubbing the back of her neck like the words might be hiding there.
“I didn’t come to fight,” she says, looking up at Van. “Or flirt with your haircut—though, Jesus, Van, you look like every queer indie film protagonist rolled into one.”
Van snorts, but she’s still guarded. Arms crossed, like if she lets them fall, she’ll fall with them.
Tai steps a little closer. “I freaked out, okay? You were right. I am hiding. I’m scared. My mom’s got so much pressure on me. My dad’s always working, and when people look at me, I’m supposed to have it
all figured out. MVP of the team, scholarships lined up, future senator or whatever…” Her voice drops. “But when I look at you—I want to be seen. The real way. It scares the shit out of me, but it also feels… safe. Like you’re the one thing that’s actually mine.”
She pauses. “I want to be with you, Van. Even if I don’t know how to do it right. Even if I mess it up sometimes.”
Van softens, her shoulders sinking as the weight of her defense starts to lift.
“You could’ve just said that,” she says, eyes shining a little in the porch light.
“I’m saying it now,” Tai says. “Also… I lied. I totally came to flirt with your haircut.”
Van laughs, that full-chest kind of laugh that only Tai ever gets out of her.
“You look hot,” Tai adds, quieter. “You always do.”
Van steps forward just a bit, enough that the space between them shrinks, quiet and warm under the buzz of the porch light.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” she says softly, not angry, just honest. “You show up when I’m convinced you won’t. You say exactly what I needed, but two days late.”
Tai smiles sheepishly. “I’m working on my timing.”
Van studies her, the lines of Tai’s face she knows better than her own, the way her eyes stay steady even when she’s scared. It’s all there. Fear, yes—but also something steadier. Real.
“I’m still mad at you,” Van says. “But I don’t want to stop wanting you.”
“Then don’t,” Tai says, almost a whisper.
And for a moment, there’s no noise from the party, no distant music, no crowd of people who might be watching. Just them.
Van leans in, slow enough to be sure. Tai meets her halfway. The kiss isn’t desperate—it’s soft, lingering, careful. Like a promise with no date on it yet.
When they part, foreheads pressed together, Van murmurs, “You know this doesn’t fix everything, right?”
“I don’t want everything fixed,” Tai replies. “I just want you.”
They stay like that for a beat longer, a pocket of quiet in a chaotic night.
Jackie is spinning in the kitchen, drink in hand, her laugh sharp and just a bit too loud. Nat’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, amused and entirely too sober for this particular moment.
“You think you’re mysterious,” Jackie says, pointing at Nat with her plastic cup like it’s an accusation. “But you’re not. You’re just… like, secretly nice or something. It’s annoying.”
Nat smirks. “That’s the meanest compliment I’ve gotten all week.”
Jackie steps closer, her balance just slightly off but her focus clear. “I bet people think you don’t care. But you care a lot,” she says, narrowing her eyes like she’s solved something.
“And what makes you say that?” Nat tilts her head, curious now, but still guarded.
Jackie shrugs, playing with the rim of her cup. “’Cause you notice things. Like earlier—when I asked about notes in class? You knew I was full of it, but you didn’t say anything. That’s like, a kindness.”
Nat chuckles, takes a sip of her beer. “Or I just didn’t feel like calling you out.”
“Uh huh,” Jackie says, unconvinced. “You’ve got layers, Scattorcio.”
Nat’s eyes flicker toward her. “You’re drunk.”
“Little bit,” Jackie grins. Then, more softly, “But I meant that.”
Nat looks at her for a long moment, eyes unreadable. “Thanks, Jackie.”
There’s a beat of quiet. A song changes in the background. Something nostalgic.
“You wanna get some air?” Nat asks suddenly.
Jackie smiles, too quickly. “Only if you’re walking me.”
Outside, Nat can feel the cool breeze, the slight dew forming on the grass. The party is dying out, voices fading and music still thumping.
“If you're done being so full of shit, what do you want Jackie?”
“Maybe I just want a chance to feel real”
Nat raises an eyebrow, flicking ash from her cigarette onto the porch step. She’s not trying to be cruel—just real. “You already feel real to everyone else, Jackie. That’s your whole thing.”
Jackie hugs herself, rubbing her arms like she’s cold, though Nat’s sure it’s not the wind that’s getting to her. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t even know what I mean,” she admits, voice quieter now. “I
just… I watch you and Van, and it’s like you guys know who you are. You don’t care what people think.”
Nat laughs, dry and low. “Oh, we care. We just got tired of pretending not to.”
Jackie’s eyes flicker toward her. “I think I’m tired too.”
They sit in silence for a moment, the kind that feels heavier than any shouting match. The kind where something is shifting, even if neither of them is brave enough to name it.
Nat exhales smoke through her nose. “You don’t get to feel real by orbiting me like I’m some test drive for rebellion, Jackie.”
Jackie flinches a little. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?”
Jackie looks at her, eyes shining—not tears, not yet, but close. “I don’t know. But I want to figure it out. With you.”
“What about jeff?”
Jackie leans back against the porch railing, the wood damp under her hands. She exhales like she’s been holding something in for months. “He dumped me.”
Nat flicks her cigarette, watching the embers fall. “Huh. You don’t seem too heartbroken.”
“I’m not,” Jackie says, shrugging. “I mean… I thought I’d be. I thought I should be. But the truth is—I never really liked him. Not the real him, anyway. I liked the idea of him. Of us.”
Nat looks at her sideways. “The golden couple?”
“Exactly.” Jackie laughs, and it’s bitter but freeing. “He was safe. Normal. The kind of guy my mom would gush about at brunch. The kind of boyfriend that makes you look like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“But you don’t,” Nat says.
Jackie shakes her head. “Nope. Not even close. I just got really good at pretending. At being the girl everyone wanted me to be—perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect boyfriend.” She glances at Nat. “But
none of that felt like me. Not really.”
Nat studies her for a beat, softer now. “So who are you, Jackie?”
Jackie hesitates, then answers, “Someone still figuring that out. But I think I’m done trying to be her.”
Nat smirks a little, the edge returning to her voice. “Well, if you’re trying to be imperfect, hanging out with me is a hell of a start.”
Jackie smiles, genuine this time. “That’s the idea.”
Jackie shuffles her feet in the damp grass, letting the silence hang between them for a minute. Nat doesn’t fill it—she never does. She just watches, eyes steady, giving Jackie the space to think or run. Either would be fine.
Instead, Jackie breathes out and crosses her arms like she’s bracing herself. “You know… it’s kind of exhausting, being a lie all the time.”
Nat nods, flicking ash. “Yeah. But you get used to it.”
“I don’t want to.” Jackie’s voice is small, but not fragile. “I’m tired, Nat.”
“You and me both.”
There’s something quiet in the air now. Not heavy, but charged. The wind carries a leftover beat from the dying party inside, distant and hollow. Jackie nudges her shoulder into Nat’s. Just enough to feel real.
“You’re not what I expected,” Jackie says.
Nat smirks. “And you’re exactly what I expected. Except… maybe not.”
They don’t say anything more for a while. Just listen to the wind. It’s the kind of silence that says: this isn’t over
---
The library was almost empty, save for the faint hum of computers and the scratch of pencils against paper. Nat leaned back in her chair, the weight of the application finally off her shoulders. She hadn’t thought she’d get this far, but here she was. A little scared, a little excited, but mostly—relieved.
Van was sitting across from her, tapping her pencil impatiently. The rhythmic sound almost made Nat smile. It was a familiar habit, one she had grown used to over the years, something that always
reminded her of Van’s restless energy. Van caught her looking and stopped the tapping, grinning.
“You done yet, or are you writing a novel?” Van teased.
Nat rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Done. Just finished.”
Van leaned back in her chair, clearly impressed. “Rutgers, huh? Big dreams.”
Nat shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Can’t win if you don’t try.”
“Exactly,” Van said, her voice softening for a moment. She met Nat’s gaze, her usual playful energy replaced by something more sincere. “I’m proud of you.”
“You know,” Nat said, her voice quieter, “I’m scared I won’t get in. Like I’m just… not enough.”
Van shook her head, leaning forward. “Don’t even think like that. You’re way more than enough.”
A small silence passed. For a moment, it felt like the weight of the future was just a little easier to carry when they were in it together.
Van leaned in, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You know, this is totally a moment for a victory dance or something. You should celebrate, Nat. Get wild.”
Nat couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “Yeah, right. I think I’ll skip the wild dance moves for now.”
Van leaned back in her chair again, tapping her pencil once more, but this time with a different rhythm—like the beat had changed, and maybe so had they.
---
The locker room is alive with the noise of celebration. The Yellowjackets have just clinched another win, and the energy is electric. Players are shouting, high-fiving, and already making plans to hit up the afterparty. Van stands by her locker, wiping sweat from her brow with a towel, her face alight with the thrill of the game.
She glances over at Nat, who’s sitting on the bench, still catching her breath, her eyes distant. Van's gaze softens, sensing something’s off. She walks over, tossing her towel aside as she approaches her best friend.
"You good, Scattoricio?" Van asks, her usual playful tone laced with concern. Nat doesn't immediately answer, just exhales a long, slow breath, like she’s carrying the weight of the world.
"Yeah, just... thinking," Nat replies, a half-smile on her face, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
"Thinking about what? The win? Because that was one hell of a game." Van gives a light punch to Nat's shoulder, trying to break through the fog of her friend’s distraction.
Nat chuckles lightly but shakes her head. "No, not the win. The game was great. I just... you know. A lot on my mind."
Van’s brow furrows, leaning a little closer. "What’s up? You can talk to me."
Nat hesitates, her fingers twirling the towel in her hands, clearly conflicted. "It’s nothing, really. Just... you know how I’m always thinking about the future. And I’ve been so focused on nationals, on getting through this season, but I guess I’m still figuring out what’s next. For me. For... everything."
Van nods, her expression softening. She gets it—she's always the one in motion, pushing ahead, thinking about what's next. But Nat? She's the planner, the strategist. And sometimes, thinking too much about what’s ahead means you miss out on what’s right in front of you.
"I get it," Van says, her voice sincere. "But whatever happens, you know you’re not alone in this, right? We’ve got each other, no matter what comes next."
Nat finally looks up at her, her eyes grateful but tired. "Thanks, Van. I know. I just need to work through it myself."
Van gives her a playful shove, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, you’ve got time. Nationals aren’t for a few weeks. We can ride this out together, like always. But hey, if you’re ever in doubt... I’ve got your
back. Even if you decide to go pro at bowling or something wild like that."
Nat snorts at that, shaking her head. "Yeah, maybe I’ll just retire from soccer and start a career in professional bowling. Maybe get a nice purple and gold track suit."
Van laughs, clearly relieved to see Nat’s mood lifting. "There we go. That’s the spirit. Let’s just get through tonight first. I’m ready to hit that afterparty, even if it means having to hear Shauna talk about her “boyfriend” drama for hours."
Nat’s smile grows a little wider, the tension in her shoulders easing. "Yeah, that’s a better plan. I’m sure Mel will be there too. Gonna be a real blast."
Van raises an eyebrow
Nat shrugs. "She likes drama. It’s like her thing."